Author & Investigator of Strange Creatures

Archive for November, 2009

As an artist and recovering overachiever, I always try to offer something original in the Christmas cards I send every year. And since becoming embroiled in the mystery of unknown animal sightings — especially the canine and lupine variety — cryptid forms often sneak into my yearly greetings. I am still working on this year’s, but here are a few ghost cards of Christmases past:

My fave so far; sort of a Native American influence wedded to the Noel carol:

Then there is the photographic approach, requiring cooperative family. This was taken about three years ago and my hair is weirder than the beast…

And finally, crossing the species divide, I had to use a drawing to depict this guy as he will NOT stand still for a photo

If your gift is crochet, better to make a great doily than a lousy parachute.

You know you are obsessed with the craft of writing when random quotes all seem to apply to your work-in-progress. Here’s a baker’s dozen from one crazed, revelatory evening with my thesaurus of quotations:

First, I must say that the Beast of Bray Rd. and his kin that are reported to me from around the country for the past 17 years regrettably bear no resemblance to the cute, sexy werewolves of the book and movie, New Moon. (Which are really Native American shapeshifters or Skinwalkers, not werewolves.) And they would make terrible boyfriends for the following reasons:

-The creatures I call Manwolves have no physically human aspect, other than bipedal stance and some behavioral traits, so while they may be good-looking for canines, they aren’t really movie star handsome unless you’re casting for Rin Tin Tin.

-Many who have encountered a Manwolf at close range have reported a horrible smell of wet dog and urine. I bet even love-struck Bella would not be enticed by that.

-Manwolves are snarly, aggressive and anti-social; less than optimal boyfriend material. They eat roadkill, deer and cats so you wouldn’t want one to take you to dinner.

-And worst of all, unknown bipedal canines leave the scene at the first opportunity. That smacks of major future commitment problems.

Second, I would just like to mention that the hunky werewolf lover has a long tradition in literature, despite the inherent problems. One is the story of Bisclaveret, which is Breton for werewolf. Like New Moon, it was penned by a popular female writer, in this case Marie de France, but it predates Stephenie Meyer by about 1800 years (the 1100s).

Bisclaveret was a rich and hunky lord of Brittany who naturally married a beautiful woman. His wife wanted to know where he went for three days of every week, however, and found out that he was spending the time running around, literally, as a werewolf. He transformed by shedding his clothing, and could only change back by putting the same outfit back on.

His wife decided she would prefer a former, entirely human lover who then stole Bisclaveret’s clothing and partied on the werewolf’s wealth with the lady for years. Eventually Bisclaveret was able to kill the knave — and his unfaithful wife — and get his clothing and estates back.

Werewolves are fun to put in fiction, I have done it myself. The possibilities are endless. But whatever it is that people are really seeing in the American woods and fields is something entirely different. And the real creatures, whatever they are, don’t appear ready for their close-up just yet.

Steampunk costumes are glorious things. My own effort was not contest-worthy (though I still had fun wearing it), but I was blown-like-a-zeppelin-in-a-hurricane away by the grand prize winners; a wheelchair tricked out with everything from a dangling faux gaslight to a metal-tubing cupholder, and a man with a wooden cabinet backpack that had moving gears, Tesla lights, and an array of other steamish objects too vast to describe here.

My quick take-aways from the weekend:

Victorian-era clothing looks great on every age group, with the possible exception of corsets worn as sole top. A corset-fail pictorial would have been horrendously easy to document.

Most SF/F fans believe Bigfoot is also SF/F, judging by the Mystery Animal Panel.

Autographing tables really should be located someplace near the attendees.

Concensus from the 2012 Apocalypse panel I sat on was that the big change will be a spiritual transformation rather than an all out Armageddon as in the movie. Whew! I can drive again without checking for yawning sinkholes to Hell every two minutes. And does this mean anyone can be Pope in 2012?

It is possible to go an entire weekend eating nothing but Con Suite and Green Room food. And those who do, really appreciate it.

With the exception of one argumentative dealer, SF/F people are the nicest and most mannerly of crowds. Maybe it’s because we have so much practice at keeping our monsters in our heads where they belong.

I’m not a costume person. I had a bad costume-fail for my second grade class Halloween party and never quite recovered. I have always blamed my mother.

She had this thrifty notion that my costume should also be able to double as pajamas, so she had my grandma whip up a baggy bodysuit out of tiger-print flannel, complete with an eared cap that tied under my chin. The really egregious part was that she had forgotten to buy a mask or costume makeup, so she drew jagged stripes all over my face with her bright red lipstick. Altogether, I looked like Freddie Krueger had gotten hold of the neighborhood cat.

My classmates were grossed out. Worse yet, my two best friends, Mary and Leslie, were dressed like little dolls as Little Bo Peep and a fairy princess, respectively. My boyfriend of the week, Larry Vorba, said Leslie was pretty but I was not. And the lipstick smelled like my mother’s saliva. I pretty much swore off elaborate costumes forever.

Then came WindyCon’s Steampunk-themed con, happening this Nov. 13-15. I’m on two panels and have a book signing — how could I not wear a costume? Besides, Steampunk is Victorian+fantasy+cool, Neil-Gaimanesque imagery. Irresistible. I decided to forget the tiger suit debacle and bought a hat and corset. I then set about creating a fantasy gadget “jet-pack” and attached it to some post-Halloween sale wings from Walgreen’s. I’m aiming for a gothy Victorian Tinkerbell look.

Here is a shot of the wing ensemble, and I’m also rigging up a big pocketwatch/brooch combination and will be carrying a transformed old book. I also have a very short ruffled skirt and tall black boots. And the only lipstick on my face will be between my nose and chin where it belongs.